Thanks to college students willing to undergo a variety of tests and challenges (without knowing the real purpose) for the price of a pitcher of beer, researchers have collected volumes of data about human behavior.

I don’t remember why I requested the library book, “Sidetracked: Why our Decisions get Derailed and How We Can Stick to the Plan,” by Francesca Gino, but I found it packed with research, much of it conducted on college campuses, that tells why we make bad decisions.

Even though I’m no better a decision maker for having skimmed this book, one study paralleled a situation I experienced.

I’d been moping for a week about the novel I’m writing. I’d tell myself it’s boring, the protagonist is one-dimensional, it will end up like a book I just finished in which cardboard characters accomplish impossible feats in one week, while I wasted several hours reading about them.

What I’m describing is a phase every first-time novelist goes through. Fortunately, for the past two years I’ve enjoyed the benefits of working with small groups of classmates who’ve studied together and critiqued each others’ draft scenes.

You may have heard of “flash fiction,” a story in less than 300.  Well, that’s nothing compared to the flash therapy session I underwent last week, in which colleagues identified my problem and the solution within seconds. “Sidetracked” calls it having too narrow a focus. The solution? “Zoom out.”

In “Sidetracked,” Gino uses a Chinese parable to preface the research on this topic. Every day a woman carried two pots to a stream to collect water. One of the pots had a crack and lost half of its water over the course of the woman’s walk home. After a year and a half, the pot with a crack mourned its failures and shared its feelings with the water carrier.

The woman said she was aware of the pot’s crack and for this reason had planted flower seeds along the path. When the water spilled she’d have beautiful flowers for her table.

I recognized this as my problem and have stopped accusing my characters of being wooden, knowing they will deepen with each new draft.

May college students continue to volunteer to show their foibles and behave like people of every age, so they can afford their beer and the rest of us can learn.

Ann Oxrieder has lived in Bellevue for 35 years. She retired after 25 years as an administrator in the Bellevue School District and now blogs about retirement at http://stillalife.wordpress.com/.